"Meaning?" But Sine and his companions knew that the meaning must be evil.
"Meaning," Nikkia snapped, "that from now on you three are Mugs, no better and no worse than the Jovian Mugs. Except that I shall instruct the labor office to put you to work at one of the power integrators—perhaps in The Bubble. We don't want to waste you" he added with grim humor—"and the gravity here on Jupiter might reduce your life of usefulness."
The governor turned his back in dismissal, and the prisoners were hustled into a dark, extremely hot storage hold. Here they lay down amid an untidy collection of miscellaneous gear, thick with dust. They rested gratefully until some of their strength should return to them.
When they awoke from their sleep of exhaustion they were aware that the ship had landed, and a few minutes later the door of their prison was opened and an officer, heat pistol trained on them, commanded the prisoners to get into another ship for transfer to the metal and crystal satellite where they were condemned to drag out the rest of their lives as slaves.
The second coming of the Earthmen to The Bubble was in marked contrast to their first. Instead of the large, commodious lock in the upper hemisphere, they entered this time through a drab, dull orifice in the black half of the sphere. The patrol ship which brought them was contacted without ceremony. They were thrust though with curt orders to ask somebody for the Mug superintendent's office. Then the valve closed behind them. There was a grating sound as it was locked from the outside, and then silence. The ship was gone. They were marooned in the gloom, the grisly domain of the rays and the Mugs. Sentenced for life, with their only companions, a few broken, despairing men.
The corridor in which they found themselves sloped gently downward, and artificial gravity made it possible to walk naturally. Sine taking the lead, they passed into the depths. Everywhere were monstrous shadows, with occasional stabbing eerie beams of light. But it seemed that an ominous hush hung over this metal-interlaced gulf. Here there was no sense of motion—no sense of bubble-like lightness. It was like a descent into the nether regions of the ancient—into an inferno. But of the denizens of this dismal place there was no trace.
"Let's go to Proserpina's home," Sine suggested. "I'm anxious to see if she's still all right. And the old man too."
Accordingly they watched for the numbered corridor, and after some fruitless wandering, came again to the deep crack that was the only home this timid girl knew. She started up in terror as the Earthmen came into view. Not unnaturally, for they were all bristly with unshaven beards and grimy with the dust they had collected when prisoners in the Jovian ship's hold.
But after her first reaction of terror she gave a glad cry, and running up to Sine, threw her thin arms around his muscular neck.
"Now listen, kid!" The young scientist began with unwonted embarrassment. But the girl clung to him, and he could not quite bring himself to tear her arms away. She released him herself, in a few moments, became suddenly shy.